


Lonely Hunters

by afewreelthoughts



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Frottage, Heavy Angst, M/M, One Night Stands, read the notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 12:02:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3691548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afewreelthoughts/pseuds/afewreelthoughts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Earth is unassailable.  Land hardly changes.  No tides to follow, no currents. Makes robbing difficult, Hook knew.  But these days the sea was not doing him any favors, and if he were to keep his crew satisfied, he had to think outside the box.  Or else he’d have a mutiny on his hands.  He knew it was only a matter of time.</p><p>“The Evil Queen’s Palace?” Smee’s eyes grew wide.  “You’re not going there?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lonely Hunters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bedwyrssong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bedwyrssong/gifts).



> While the sex depicted in this story is consensual, there is considerable reference made to the Huntsman and Regina's relationship, in which he is helpless and the consent is dubious at best.

Earth is unassailable.  Land hardly changes.  No tides to follow, no currents. Makes robbing difficult, Hook knew.  But these days the sea was not doing him any favors, and if he were to keep his crew satisfied, he had to think outside the box.

Or else he’d have a mutiny on his hands.  He knew it was only a matter of time.

He left Smee in charge, the ship moored in a small port town at the edge of a place called the Enchanted Forest.

“Where are you going, Captain?” Smee caught hold of Hook’s arm before he descended to shore.

“I’ve heard there’s a castle in these parts.  Rich beyond imagining,” Hook said.

“The Evil Queen’s Palace?” Smee’s eyes grew wide.  “You’re not going  _there_?”

“Less than a mile’s walk,” Hook said, leaning against the rail of his ship.  He held his hook up to the light of the morning sun.  “I’ll be back by tomorrow.”

Smee said nothing more, and Hook set off, into the town, then into the next, then deep into the forest itself.  By the time the sun leaned against the horizon, a tower rose out of the rolling green hills before him like some demented chess piece.

Hovering in the trees at the edge of the castle, Hook saw that the road leading to the gate was filled with carriages.  He stayed in the lengthening shadows of the forest until the thick stream became merely a trickle.  He followed the last carriage at a distance and stopped walking when a man and a woman descended its steps.

“Does the Queen think a fancy-dress ball l will distract from her massacres in the North villages?” the woman whispered to the man, wrangling with her full, full skirts.

“Keep you chin up, my darling,” the man said quietly and took her hand. He tipped up the mask covering his face.  “If we can hold our tempers at this masquerade, then perhaps the Queen will have mercy, and we can keep our hearts and our heads where they are supposed to be.”

The woman took another step forward, stumbled, and cursed.  Her skirt was caught beneath one of the carriage’s wheels.

Hook had been watching them carefully.  He made a calculation before stepping forward and bowing.

“Allow me, madame,” he said.  He knelt and unhooked the silk of her skirts from the spokes of the wheel.

“Thank you,” she said, though she did not sound happy at all.

“Who might you be?” the man asked.  “My wife and I both owe you thanks.”

“A simple man hoping, perhaps, for a chance to attend the Queen’s masked ball.”  He wrinkled his nose.  “I spent half my savings on this pirate costume.” Then he bowed again.  “My name is Killian.”

The woman nodded.  “Come with us, why don’t you, Killian?”

The man’s eyes widened in shock.  “Will the Queen not mind?”

“I don’t care if the Queen minds!” the woman said to her husband.  And then to Hook, “Follow us, if you’d like.”

Hook followed the couple, hoping they would not attract too much attention. They led him into a magnificent throne room, outfitted for a ball.  Brightly-dressed nobles in all sorts of silly costumes filled every foot of the ballroom.  The Queen sat on her throne, shimmering in a black fabric so deep it seemed to suck the light from the candles themselves.

Hook clung to the walls as soon as he entered the room, picking up a glass of wine on his way.  He took up position at the side of the ballroom, behind a magnificent table of food.  He thought he went unseen.

He felt the eyes on him before he saw them, gazing at him with a bitterness that only came from stolen innocence.  Hook looked over his shoulder.  A man dressed in wild curls and sleek black leather stood a mere few feet to his right, one foot propped against the wall.  

“It’s a wonderful party,” Hook said, raising his glass.

“I’ve never seen you in court before.  Have I?” the man said.

“You’re a courtier?  Please don’t be offended, but I never would have guessed,” Hook said.

The man’s face brightened.  He almost smiled.  Deep brown eyes drew Hook’s gaze and held it there.  He looked so unbelievably sad that Hook’s heart ached just from looking at him.

"What’s your name?  Where do you come from?” the man asked.

"Killian…”  Something about that sad, sad face nearly hypnotized him.  He had to look away, and when he did, his eyes fell on the food spread across the long mahogany table, a feathered bird presented magnificently in the center. “Swan.  Killian Swan.”  He watched the wild man carefully.   “May I offer you something?” he said and smiled, walking to the table.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Does none of this tempt you?” Killian asked, grinning at him.  He bit into a sugared biscuit.  It was delicious.

“I used to be a huntsman. This feast seems to me a great waste.”  The man who used to be a huntsman crossed his arms.

“You were a huntsman?”  The man said nothing.  Hook decided that he might push him a little further.  “Then may I ask what you are now?”

"I work for the Queen, in more ways than one.  You could say she’s very fond of me.”

Killian whistled.  “She’s quite a catch.  Do you mean to say that you - ”

"She caught me, sir,” the man snapped, “not the other way around.  Caught me and trapped me."

“I’d like to be trapped by a woman like that,” Hook said and laughed.

“You wouldn’t,” the Huntsman said too quickly.

“Not fond of her?”  Killian shrugged.  “It seems you’re not the only one.”

“She is my queen.  It does not matter if I am fond of her or not.”

The arms crossing his chest became tighter.  The Huntsman’s eyes ran from Hook’s earring down to his boots.  “Why do you care, Killian Swan?”

Hook knew it would aid him to have someone on the inside.  He could not rob the Evil Queen’s castle alone, and he had banked on meeting someone who hated the Queen enough to steal from her.  But the night was young, and trusting someone so soon might be a disaster, especially if his only reason was the sadness in a stranger’s eyes.

“Curiosity,” Hook said.

The Huntsman’s eyes locked on Hook’s, and he squared his shoulders.  “Come with me.”  He turned away and disappeared into a small door in the wall.  Hook hesitated a moment before he followed.

The Huntsman led into him through dark, narrow corridors in the castle, far from the sound and the light of the party.  Hook tried to keep track of their path, and just when he feared he was lost, the Huntsman led him into a small room and locked the door behind them.

For a dreadful second, Killian feared that he’d been discovered.  He had been behaving strangely, and now the Queen’s right-hand man was going to put an end to it.  The chill air pricked his skin, so much colder than what he’d felt outside.  The one window was just the right size for the Huntsman to cast him out of the castle and to his death.  He pulled back his left arm, ready to strike.

Hook felt a hand on his waist, then he was pushed bodily against the wall.  He brought his hook down.  It pressed against the Huntsman’s throat and gleamed in the moonlight.

The Huntsman took three deep breaths before he spoke.  “What do you want to know about myself and the Queen?”

Hook spoke slowly, carefully.  “I promise I’m not hear to hurt anyone.  I’m just an honest thief.”  He smiled.

“Thief?”  In the light spilling from the open window, Hook saw the man’s dark brown eyes brighten.  He had miscalculated.

He held his hook up and laughed.  “Cause I’m dressed as a pirate, you see?” 

The Huntsman’s eyes darkened again.

“What?  You don’t like jokes?”

“If you’re joking, you can leave.”  The Huntsman turned away to look out the open window.  The longing with which he looked out at the forest made Killian’s heart ache again.

“You’ve locked the door.”

The Huntsman held out a ring of keys without sparing Killian a glance.

“And if I’m not joking?”  The Huntsman looked over his shoulder.  “If I’m not joking about robbing the Queen…”

He wet his lips.  “The Queen has my heart.”

“You mean you love her?”

“I mean it was torn from my chest.  The person who has it, she can ask you to do what she likes.  She’s a witch.”

“What is it she makes you do?”

In the beam of moonlight that fell through the window, the Huntsman looked close to tears.  Killian saw his hands shaking.  “Things other men would think themselves lucky for.”  He cleared his throat.  “If you mean her ill will, I am on your side,” he said and leaned over to put a key into the lock.

Killian’s mind reeled with images of this wild man pinned down.  “She sounds like a monster,” he said.

“She’s just human,” the Huntsman said.  He opened the door for Hook, who stepped through.  “The treasury is not far from here.”

The tunnels he led Killian through grew smaller and darker, until they arrived before wide double-doors framed with torches.

“No guards?” Killian asked.  “Don’t be offended, but I find that awfully suspicious.”

The Huntsman shrugged.  “The Queen is arrogant.”

“She did not realize that tonight would be the perfect opportunity for a robbery?”  Hook took a step away from the Huntsman.

“You don’t have to trust me.  Just give me your bag.”

Hook did, and he watched the Huntsman open the wide doors.  Inside were obscene and organized stacks of gold and piles of precious stones.  Hook watched the Huntsman fill his bag and his pockets with strands of silken pearls and heavy gold coins.  There was enough in one handful to satisfy his crew for weeks.

The Huntsman closed the doors behind him and handed the bag back to Hook. It was heavy.  Then he took off the jewels he wore, necklaces of gold and pearls and draped them around Hook’s neck.  “Do you trust me now?”

A muffled thud came from down the corridor.  

“Follow me!” the Huntsman whispered, and he took off in the opposite direction.  Hook ran as fast as he could after him, weighed down with riches.

When finally they burst from the castle into the cool night air, they did not stop, but ran until the shadows of the trees swallowed them up.

“Stop, please!” Hook called.

The Huntsman bent over, laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Hook said.  “Those guards almost caught us.”

“I haven’t, I haven’t felt so excited in a long time,” the Huntsman said.

Hook did not know what to say, so he made a great performance out of gasping for breath for the next few moments.  “You should…. take something.” He held out a handful of gold coins.

“I don’t need it.  I live at the palace, remember?”

“Are you unhappy here?” Hook said.

The Huntsman’s silence spoke in ways his words never could.

"Where is it?”

“What?”

“She must keep it somewhere.”

“M-my heart?”

“Yes.”

"Her vault, but I don’t know where that is."

Killian found his lips opening, making words.  “I’ll find it.  I’ll get your heart back.”

He could feel those intense eyes on him in the darkness, but he could not tell what the person behind them was thinking.

“Please trust me,” he begged.  “I’m a thief and a pirate, but I am also a man of honor.  I keep my promises.  You helped me.  Now let me help you.”

Killian stepped closer to the Huntsman, and felt one trembling hand trace the line of his jaw.  The Huntsmans smelled like pine and crisp autumn leaves. Killian’s mouth found the crook of the Huntsman’s neck and moved against it slowly until he felt hands fist tight in his coat.  Killian’s hand slipped beneath the Huntsman’s shirt.  He wanted nothing more than to touch his warm skin until the sun broke through the clouds.   His hand dipped further down and squeezed firm flesh. 

Animal sounds brought them to the ground.  Hook tossed his bag away and discarded the jewels around his neck.

The Huntsman’s fingers worked the fastenings on Killian’s coat in a rush, and he gasped for breath.

Killian stroked his cheek, the rings on fingers cool on hot skin.  “Got time to breathe, don’t we?”

The Huntsman pulled his shirt over his head and nearly purred in pleasure when the cool air touched his skin, like that piece of leather had held him back so much it had nearly pained him.  He ran his hands down Killian’s chest luxuriously, like he had all the time in the world.  Killian arched into his touch. His eyes had grown adjusted to the moonlight falling between the trees, and he could make out the man’s silhouette, wild hair and broad shoulders.  He could swear that even in the darkness, he saw some new gentleness.

The Huntsman opened the front of Killian’s trousers, and took them both in one hand.  Killian bit down on his knuckle to keep from crying out, and when he was kissed hungrily, he responded in kind.  The heat building within him was nearly overwhelming.

They pressed and rocked against each other, kissing and panting, until Killian felt himself tense from his head to his feet.  His hand grasped the Huntsman’s shoulders, and he came.

They lay side-by-side on the forest floor afterward.  Killian did not know how long.

"Give me a moment, and I’ll… I’ll wake up.  You’ll show me where the Queen keeps her hearts and…”

“Don’t be an idiot,” the Huntsman said, too softly, buttoning the front of Killian’s vest.  

A cool breeze caught Killian’s neck, and he shivered.

“I can’t follow you.  She’d catch me,” the Huntsman said and stood.

“Then tell me what to do.”

The Huntsman picked up his shirt and bunched it in his hands.  “Don’t try to be a hero.  You’ll end badly if you do.”

“I’m not a hero.  I never have been,” Killian said.

“Good.”

He let him go.  Killian Jones sat on the forest floor and watched the Huntsman disappear into the trees, and he did nothing.  He never knew why.  Perhaps the man was right, and no good would come of any attempt.

Killian smoothed his clothes and gathered his gold and jewels.  He set off alone into the forest.  He could have sworn the ground was shifting beneath his feet.


End file.
